The Mythos
by JapanCat
Summary: Some prompts from a tumblr blog I've done. I just wanted to share it with everyone.
1. Kindness

There was a man who loved his wife and children. He gave to the poor, sheltered those who needed it. That sort of thing. He was killed on his doorstep one day, mistaken for another who lived in the area. No one ever remembered him after that.

That was the definition of kindness. The saying that No Good Deed Goes Unpunished. Because as far as we're concerned, what happens in hell is more important and more interesting than what happens when you reach heaven.

That was the mantra that Mukuro lived by. Trust no one. Kindness always has a price. Though she wished there was something more to this world than sitting in a cold war with someone out there, having lived a life being used by a man that was supposed to raise her as his little princess.

And so she accepted the way things were. That no one could be kind, that she would always be used if she doesn't use them first. That one day every year, locking herself in her room trying to forget.

This last time Hiei brought her freedom from the cycle in a potted plant, the strange fruit once a man.

"Happy Birthday," he said.

And then she understood.


	2. Gratitude

"So what do you want from me, then?" Mukuro asked Hiei. He gave her a noncommittal shrug in response. "Isn't that the point of this? What is it that you want me to do for you now?"

"It is what it is," was the response.

Somehow, it didn't feel right. But then, who's to say that all deeds are done for payment? Did the man who helped the poor, that damned bloody saint, ever wish he would have that stranger give him a place to stay if the need ever came? Did he just accept that there was no need? What is selflessness?

"I'll leave you to your business. Like I said, do as you want with it, you can kill him right now or just leave him as it is, just leave me out of it. It's not my problem. But if you're insistent on repaying me, at least quit wallowing in your damn self pity." Hiei was turning away.

Just before he left, she said, "Hiei? Thanks."

And of course: "Shut up."

And the strange fruit of a man in his pot, still dripping his deathrow criminal's tears, refused to look at her. Justice will be done.

Right. Thanks.


	3. Glass

Glass. An empty shell. Transparent in its purest form. Opaque at its purest form. When shattered it appears to be more like diamonds.

Ironic, comparing the most mundane thing to something of greater value.

Turn now to what everyone sees as a husk of a woman. Only half desirable, and not even reliable at that. But when does she become diamonds and when is she glass?

She was born to be a diamond. Only for playing with. No other uses. And yet she poured acid on herself- shattered herself to pieces.

Right. She was glass before. Or is she glass now? That damn paradox. Glass is more useful than diamonds, yet diamonds are much more valuable…

Isn't it possible to put the pieces together again? If they ever were in pieces to begin with?


	4. Hunt

There's a saying: Are you a man or a mouse? (Are you a predator or prey? Do you live in the open or live in the shadows?) Hunt or be hunted?

Are you the one that uses others or do you live to be used?

Let's drag the question further, a quote from a random song, "Do mice and men get second tries?"

First days on the outside, first days as a free person, yet still a woman in a child's body. She stalked the streets in the tattered dress she left his in. It wasn't long before some desperate drunk followed her at every turn, backing her in to a corner. There was a glass bottle in his hand. And in the moments in which he tried to conquer her will, she managed to grab a hold of it and smash it in to his eyes. It was enough for her to be able to run away.

The rest of the days of the week ended the same way. By the third time, she made it in to a game, and tried playing the part of a lonely prostitute for the sole reason of preying upon those who wanted it. It got tiresome by the end of the month.

She became a man by cloaking her face and occasionally joined the ranks of those who captured women so she could kill them in the moment before.

Oh, but don't call her a hero. No.


	5. Basket

A slave woman said to me, "When you were born, you were put in a basket. You were brought from a god and he said you were the blessed one."

I asked her, "Why?"

"You bring joy to your daddy, you know?"

I asked her, "Are you sure?"

She shook her head at me and said, "Now, you don't ask questions, you hear? That's how people get sad."

I wanted to say, but I AM sad. I wanted to say, I was not a blessing at all. Not to myself. Maybe to him, but not to me.

She had a basket that she carried. The one she insisted was a gift from a god. She used it for soiled clothes. It was the moment I realized this that I understood what she was trying to tell me. Yes.

I wish I burned that thing.


	6. Beauty

He said, "No one wants to look at your ugly body." The day he threw her out. He said, "Why did you do this to yourself?"

He said, "Why did you do this to me?" His hands were like sandpaper on her skin. "Don't you know what you mean to me?"

She wanted to say, "No." What she really wanted to say was her usual answer when he asked such things, "Yes." That- yes, I am your daughter. Yes, I know why I am here.

Yes, I am sorry I was born.

I am sorry I was made this way. I am sorry I am a monster.

The man, her father, Chikou, the slave trader, he would say in their moments of entrapment, "You are beautiful. You are the most beautiful girl that lived."

He said that she can't cry. Crying makes you ugly. Crying makes you wrinkled. A hag. But she felt a hag before her time. Used up. Stretched to the point of inability to maintain plasticity.

She looked in the mirror before she poured acid on herself. She said to herself, "You are ugly. You are a hag." She saw nothing but a beast in the mirror. She took the basin, held it over her head, as one does with holy water. She poured it down her face, down her body, baptizing herself.

And she watched as her flesh started to bubble and deform on her face. She felt the pain, but the monster was dying. The monster was dying. She walked to Chikou's room and stood in the doorway as he asked for his women.

She said, her speech slurring, her vision growing foggy from the pain… She said, "Am I still beautiful?"


	7. Lens

Day before the tournament that would make Enki king. She wasn't particularly concerned about what to wear- in fact, she never puts thought to that at all. But the one thing bothering her was having to deal with everyone poking and prodding her about her scars. She tested it out in her mind, "Birds ate my face. Birds ate my face…"

No, that story of her escape from that man wasn't to circulate. It was only between those who she could trust the most.

She held the lens in her hand. It was the kind that comes in glasses, closer to the magnification of someone's reading glasses. She held it to her face to test it out, along with a piece of cloth positioned to be held in place.

No. This isn't right.

She put it back on the table and found the bandages again. She'd just walk around face bare.

And to hell with everyone else.


	8. Peace

A favorite statement found in anti-Alaric propaganda was that Mukuro was a person who thrived on chaos. When she had gotten the news, she tried really hard not to laugh. (Of course, laughter has many registers, and that moment could be interpreted in various ways.) That was many years past. Maybe around the time Yusuke was being dropped out of the womb. Fast forward fourteen, fifteen years later at the point when there was no more rivalry.

So comes the questions of how Mukuro the destroyer fares. She was aware that there were rumors that she was planning a sort of revolution to cause some stir, on grounds that that's the only way she gets satisfaction out of anything. A few times she had gotten visits from people who wanted to make sure she wasn't trying to hand out leaflets or anything that would incite a revolution. The oddest they found was a lemon rind in her pocket.

She asked them once, "Do you do this with Yomi?"

"Of course not." Which answered quite a few questions.

To which she replied, "Well, you should."

That went over well with him. Not that any argument between the two was anything new. At least it felt more like the way things used to be.

But even so, she wasn't sure she wanted things the way it was before. Sure, she wouldn't mind someone causing some trouble just for the thrill of it, but she was really starting to get used to this unification thing. No one bitching to her if something went wrong on some farm out in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. No chance of Chikou tracking her down. No chance of everything going to hell if she does the slightest thing wrong. No.

It was silence. At worst, it was Hiei bitching about how much he hates doing his job or Kirin bitching about something else or Shigure, or all three bitching about the others. But then again, what else do they have to do?

And what else does she have to do with her time anyway? Right. Just the portrait of peace at its finest.


	9. Tragedy

"There is a saying in Tibetan, 'Tragedy should be utilized as a source of strength.'  
No matter what sort of difficulties, how painful experience is, if we lose our hope, that's our real disaster."  
― Dalai Lama XIV

They say there's two ways a person can identify themselves after trauma. As a victim. Or as the survivor. But then again, at what point does one stop being the victim, and at what point does one become a survivor? What does it even take to be a survivor or a victim? Can there be a middle ground? So often I've wondered that. So often I've asked myself when the pain would stop. So often I searched myself, trying to figure out why the hell it was that I came out this way, came out to live this life. Why does anyone have to live this way?

Very often, I get comments from people, saying that I'm a strong woman. I'm the strongest woman they've ever met. I sometimes wish I could tell them that that's not true at all.

…In my memories, the memories I retained, the false ones that slaver trader Chikou left in me, I still see a little girl playing with her father. They both have smiles on their faces. I wonder what kind of person she would have grown up to be. If she would have been strong at all, or if she would have been a dependent person. What kind of level of grace she would have had. If she married the richest man or whatnot. Who would she grow up to be? And would she grow up to be me? I look into the eyes of others…

If Hiei was never tossed from Hyouga, if he was allowed to live with his mother and his sister, would he have been the same person? Or would he be a warmer version of himself, a more extroverted person?

If Raizen never met that woman, the one that was fated to be Yusuke Urameshi's ancestor, would he have been any different? Would he have stayed the same as he was before or what it inevitable that he would drown in his selfish excuse altruism?

What if Yomi never went blind?

What if Youko Kurama was never shot? And what if I never started to make a name for myself as a leader against Raizen?

What if I laid down and died? Suddenly, I can't remember when I stopped laying back and letting everything happen, when I made my final decision… I wonder what would have been different. But life moves on. Maybe I'm a better person that I would have been if things would have been better. Maybe things are better than if I never existed at all. Maybe it's just better not to think about it.

And in the end, we just search for those with the same look in our eyes, and we reach out to them.


	10. Risk

How do you learn to trust someone when your trust has been abused? How do people trust others in any case? Are we all born with the innate knowledge of how we do so? And if you are the soul, such as myself, that has had that ripped out, how do you learn to trust another person? When do you know that you have found the person that could heal that pain?

Kirin was the first. I never revealed my identity to him until everyone else in the world knew. He thought me a great rebel against Raizen, who by that time, though already a great fool, was starting to regret any actions against humans. Kirin seemed to think my random streaks of terror was supposed to be a way to "stick it to the man." And so he asked for my permission to follow me. Gather some friends and others to help me do a sort of coup d'etat.

It worked. But it never progressed further than me being placed on a pedestal, the god in his eyes. I wasn't sure I really wanted a friend. You never realize that you would like one until you've experienced both companionship and solitude. I didn't trust him enough to tell him who I really was.

That was how it always was. I didn't think he had anything worth my time.

And so the second, the one that caused a stir at the tournament after his apparent disappearance from Area-13 Northeast. (You know the place.) The supposed "Cursed Child," a name I thought was secondary and moreover, melodramatic.

At the time of meeting, I managed to slip in to his unconscious, just to be sure that he wasn't someone I would have to murder. In fact, I had planned to just have the secrets of the Black Dragon stolen from him and then have him executed should he be unworthy of living.

Instead. Peace. Someone knowing what I had known about the world. Someone who wanted to leave this life.

Someone like me.

I could have let him die. Yes. I could have just revived him and left him be a nobody. Instead, Kirin was replaced. I exposed every scar on my body, every inch of my unscarred side also visible.

At the time, I wondered, _Is this a mistake? Am I going to foster a disgusting desire? Should he really know? Should I just keep Kirin as my second in command anyway?_

But a promise is a promise, Hiei. I said I would hide nothing.

Where that moment would take me, I never knew. But for once in my life, that unknown didn't seem as bad.


	11. Twisted Lemon

Mukuro had a small cup of tea sitting on the table, slicing a lemon in halves and one of the halves into quarters, and that quarter into an eighth. She took one of the eighths and held it over the cup, squeezing it until it was more rind than flesh. She held her hand over it, feeling the acid of the lemon burn into her nails as though eating through the cuticles to leave them for only flesh. Nothing in comparison to the acid that had left her face more like a thin scars over muscle and bone.

And as she was about to place the rind elsewhere, a thought came. What becomes of a rind when it no longer holds the flesh and juices- the blood and meat- of the fruit? What is the use of the skin? When it's been used, suddenly this skin is tossed away, completely useless.

And here is another: Just as they say that we don't know where our bones will be after our death, just as when we leave this world, we stop being a face and a name. Suddenly you are a statistic. Another brick in the wall. Just the discarded rind from a lemon.

Odd and as ridiculous as it sounds, she felt a sort of kinship, knowing that only the innards were of use to anyone. If she stayed in that damn prison. Squeezed and torn until the flesh was used up, and at the end tossing away the husk of a woman to shrivel and turn to dust.

In the end, held in the hands of her father, squeezed only for what he wanted and left.

…Right. It was time for tea. She put the lemon rind in her pocket.


	12. YomiMukuro The End of the River

He was a bandit. A young bandit. Back when he had his sight, making a name for himself as the second in command to the great Youko Kurama, and also for being a complete stooge that ruined their missions. But there was a brotherhood between the two apparently, and that was what kept him from being let go. Or so he said in his meetings with Mukuro.

They met on some midsummer's eve. He was walking along the bank of a river, grumbling to himself about his latest failure. Mukuro was hiding in the bushes, then still living as a woman, dressed in the rags that most eyes took to mean one thing- prostitute. It was enough to keep her on her toes to defend herself. She was sitting, knotting her still long hair in a knot to keep it from her eyes when she heard the coming footsteps. Her eyes still locked on him, she watched as he came.

She sank back. He was closer. Then- damn! Her foot caught a twig. He stood straight, then turned and rushed to the bushes. She released her hair to ready to attack. But she moved to late and he had her pinned to the ground.

"Who the fuck are you?" he asked.

"No one," she said, the first thing that came to mind. He grabbed her by the shoulders and slammed her in the ground, which actually did nothing to harm her but it was enough close contact that she felt more panicked. "Really, I have no name! I'm just some whore!"

"…Really… How much?"

She spat in his face. "Not for sale you asshole."

"What the hell kind of whore are you?" One hand grabbed at her throat and the other ran down to grab at her clothes. But he looked at her face and saw the fear had morphed into pure undiluted rage. He jumped back. She was starting to power up. "Okay, okay, okay. None of that then. You weren't sent to kill me, were you?"

"You get away from me. Leave this place or I will kill you."

He did as he was told.

He walked along the bank a couple of weeks later and found the same girl there. She was washing her hands in the river. Looking in the water, he saw the tints of blood. Her clothes were covered with blood. She had a hand on the hem of her dress, was about to lift it when she looked over her shoulder, her left shoulder and saw him there.

"You want to make peace?" Yomi asked.

"You're saying that because you don't want me to kill you," she said. "Look at the blood. I have these from my victims. They all screamed. Like you would."

"Okay, I was wrong to try anything on you."

"You think I can forgive someone who says that? You're only sorry you might get killed."

"No, really."

"Why do you want me to…?"

"You can join us. My group. I remembered that you have power and my group can use someone like you. There's some girls with us so you'll fit in."

"You told him, didn't you? Your leader? Youko Kurama."

"It was a good one, too. If you scare me, then we…"

"I'm not interested."

"But you don't have to be afraid, we're family so…"

"I don't trust people like you. People who just throw about offers because it's convenient for you. Admit it. You just want the glory of having found me. You don't want to know who I am as a person. And what'll you do? Just say, 'Hello, I met this random unnamed girl on the river here. Take her in.'" The girl splashed her hands in the water again.

"I can give you what you want."

"I _want_ you to leave me alone."

Yomi sighed. "Tell you what. You follow us and decide if you wanna be part of the group."

"If not?"

"…How about… I wager my life?" He grinned. He was sure he would win as he always was.

The girl looked at him. Well, she could kill a bird with this stone then…. "Fine. But I don't want to be found. You are the only one allowed to speak to me at all. If anyone finds me or tries to talk to me, then you automatically lose the bet and I get to kill you."

"And one more thing. We'll have a codename for you." She cocked a brow. "Well, if no one is supposed to know you're there and I need to find you, I'll have something to shout. Now give me a word."

"Call me…. Call me Mukuro."

"Why?"

"Don't you know why?"

"…Sure I do." Actually, he was sure she was just a very macabre person and decided to go with it anyway. He had never actually seen the other side of her face as her hair had covered that side of her.

So she followed the bandits in their treks, bush to bush, just to observe. At the points of idolness, Yomi would call her out, and she came as was asked. And every time, he would ask her her opinion. He always got one that was to the effect of "Give me more time."

Rather than badger her more on it, he decided to try to entertain her with blown up stories of his successes in the missions. By the sheer tone of his speech, she knew it was just that. Just taking the credit for the work of Youko Kurama. She never complained. In fact, she looked forward to hearing his fairy tales just because she loved a good story even if it was a baldfaced lie.

Her interest he took as a blossoming affection and he tried to fish more of her persona out of her just to know what he was getting in to before going for the prize again. She was extremely vague about it. The fact that yes, she had had a man before. Yes, she was an only child. She came from a well off family. But never more than that. She started to feel his concern and was a little bothered.

But still, she found she was taking a liking to the fool and his tall tales. Why not? She let him talk to her. Before long, she allowed him to make physical contact in terms of merely touching. But still she refused to join the group, fearing at that point she would become a kept woman in his presence. She wouldn't have minded just them two being the travelers. But that's what happens when you enter a thief's life too late.

And even still, she hid her face from him just to wait until she knew it was time to really trust him.

Nine months into the relationship, Yomi screwed up. Bad. She saw it from the distance. She could hear the sounds of Kurama's voice carrying her direction. She wanted to run over there and try and protect him. But she didn't want to break the promise. She didn't want him to die. It carried on into the night.

Yomi passed through her direction without calling her, but she came out of her hiding place again. He didn't turn to her when she came out.

"Yomi," she said.

He paused and turned around. His normal attitude was not the same. He was not the cheerful story teller.

"Yomi?"

"Leave me be, Mukuro."

"I can still listen."

"I don't want to talk to you."

"I will follow."

"Do as you wish."

And she stepped behind him, matching her small steps to his long strided ones. At one point she grabbed onto his hand and they walked like that. He looped around and came closer to the camp. She let go.

"I'll have a mission tomorrow. I got a tip from someone. When I come back… Give me your answer already."

She nodded.

The next day, she waited. She waited all day. But he never came.

He never came the next day.

Or the next.

She left her post and started following the river again. Just as she finally gave up on expecting him, she saw a body at the bank. Yomi's. She hurried over and saw he was still breathing, in extreme labored breaths. She rolled him on his back and saw blood all over his face. He swung his arms around. She grabbed his hands.

"No… It's okay," she whispered. "It's me." He relaxed. She took some water and started to wash the blood from his face. "….I'm sorry."

"Mukuro… Let me touch your face…. I want to see you."

This was it. She nodded and guided her hands to her face. He pulled back.

"What the hell is that? A tree? Don't play with me!"

"…I see." She stood up. "I see."

She started to walk away.

"Where are you going?" Yomi asked.

"…I don't want to be in your group. You're as good as dead now. Live on without me."

"Why?"

"…I don't want to be with a man who does not accepted the scarred self that I am." And she left him at the bank of the river.

She grew stronger, hid her face, took on the guise of the man. She didn't think she could trust someone to love anymore. She kept the name. Mukuro. She used it as the king.

Then Yomi was king.

…The day of the tournament, she revealed herself. The day after, she found Yomi, lead him away from Shura.

"What do you want, Mukuro?" Yomi asked.

His voice saying her name was still sandpaper to her ears. Still, she took his hand and placed it on her scars. "You understand, don't you?"

"You're…?"

"I loved you. But now I don't. I will kill you, because I don't love you anymore. But I won't be today. It will be in the future."

"I didn't mean it. I was…"

"It meant the same to me. Good luck sleeping."

She walked away, passed Shura. That dumb ass kid.

The dumb ass kid that was just like his father. God damn him.


	13. MukuroGenkai Regrets

**"**A CHANCE MEETING"

Several years ago. How many? Maybe… Around twenty ago, Mukuro went to the Human World for the last time, mostly because Alaric needed her to be there at all times. But she was lucky enough to disappear while Yomi and Raizen were busy being at each other's throats, making her an unnecessary party for the time being.

But before that moment twenty years prior, she met someone which was fifty years prior to that moment. She stepped into the Human World in disguise- a long haired woman this time because she had the luxury of doing such things without people noticing, just as she often did to infiltrate Yomi and Raizen's random rallies. This time she was in all black, under the assumption that anyone in black would be easy to miss in the same way someone in the brightest of colors would be able to hide more efficiently by principle of being flashy.

It was still relatively an empty space. But it looked as though there was a temple found in the distance. The same dojo. She was tempted to go towards its steps, knowing the human family there would be aware of her demonic aura, as the family there was known to be spiritually aware. It wouldn't be so bad, just to see how they cower and cry as they often did. She made her first few steps when she heard a voice, a child's voice.

"What're you doing?" she asked.

When Mukuro turned to her, she saw a small girl, about ten human years with hair an odd shade of pink, and eyes brown as was normal in humans. Mukuro cocked a brow at her.

"Go away, little girl, I have stuff to do," Mukuro said.

"Are you a bad lady? A demon?"

"What if I was?"

"I won't let you eat my family or my name isn't Genkai!" She raised her fists, got into a stance that was somewhere between Aikido and Karate. Assuming that was possible. Assuming Mukuro even knew her martial arts right.

And so she did what any normal person did. She walked away. Listening to her empty threats. A few rocks were thrown, but it didn't hurt. She supposed that if it was painful at any point, it would have been equal to the hurting in Genkai's pride.

Jump nineteen years later. Genkai was on the edge of leaving her teens. She was stronger in her control of the Spirit Wave, even stronger in her ability to use it than her family was, prior to their deaths. Mukuro went there, once again donning the same disguise, just to make sure that the Genkai of myth was the same one she met that day. Sure enough, there was that pink haired girl with the brown eyes, a hardened look to them now, not much taller than she was that day.

Mukuro was on the steps and stood there, watching and Genkai came to acknowledge her presence.

"It's you, right?" Genkai asked. Mukuro cocked a brow. "The lady in black."

"You gonna kill me if I am?"

"What's the reason you came back?"

"What, do you think I'm the one who took out your family?"

"You would have killed me if that was the case."

"What makes you so sure?"

"I'm still talking to you."

"Clever… Very clever. To think you still remember me."

"We're not as stupid as you think we are. Now tell me what you came for."

"Curiosity. They have lots of stories about you, you know. In the other side. I just wanted to know if that girl I saw that day was you. That question has been answered, so now I feel that I can leave now." Of course, she didn't do so. She just stood there.

"What are you waiting for, then?"

"Something about you… Just… Something about you. You went from a child with extreme confidence to this." Mukuro shrugged. "It means nothing of course. I was just thinking about that. So… Family really means something to you, doesn't it?"

"What's it to you?"

"Nothing. Just something I never had."

"Because you ki-"

"Because he killed me. That's all." Another aura was coming. A human, also with a strong spiritual energy. She looked over her shoulder to see a large man coming up the steps. He stopped and stared her down, recognizing that she was a demon. She looked at Genkai, who also felt the presence and she knew what was going on. And she left before she could be attacked.

Twenty-one years later, Genkai was fifty, starting to go gray. She won the Dark Tournament less than twenty years prior and she and Toguro, the massive man, had parted ways. Mukuro came back in the same guise. She stood on the top step of the stairs and waited.

Genkai was coming up, her hair starting to have random bits of grey. More than a few wrinkles were starting to press into her face. She looked up at Mukuro.

"What the hell do you want now?" Genkai asked. "Let me guess, you're that damn curious."

"Post tournament relations. I have to check on you."

"You're full of shit, now get outta the way."

"They have this maneuver that they call walking around a person. It's quite easy, you know."

"For god's…" She continued and went around the demon. "You mind telling me your name if you're going to keep stalking me like this?"

"Mukuro." Why not? She wouldn't know the difference between her and any other demon she's killed. "Now, I think it's more a study than anything else. To see a human go through their life. If I could have seen you in infancy, I would have had the entire set. Somewhat of a shame."

"Are all of your demons like this?"

"Now, I'm not sure if I should call you racist or specist."

"That's a word?"

"It is now." Genkai sighed irritably. Mukuro went on, "It's something of a study on my part. If you like, I can tell you a story of an innocent baby girl turned into a sexual object, turned into a mutant, turned into a murderer, turned into a king of sorts. Assuming you find that interesting at all."

Genkai stared at her. Not understanding. Eyes locked. Then she started to connect it. But no words.

"Just leave."

Ten more years. Genkai was in her seventies. Mukuro met her in the same place. Grey hair now. Bags and wrinkles with few laugh lines.

"Don't you have a kingdom to run?" Genkai asked.

"Can't miss my chance to see you," Mukuro said.

"Mukuro, I've got nothing to offer you."

"…In a different life in different circumstances it would have been." She shrugged. She turned around and left. Because she knew she missed her chance. For help. For affec-


	14. SakyoMukuro The Week of the Baroness

"The Week of the Baroness"

They say that you can call up a demon using a sort of summoning ritual- though the term you're looking for is actually "devil/oni" rather than the good old "youkai." Sakyo never actually gave a damn about which one it was, all he knew was that if it would wreak havoc he was all for it. He did his own half assed way of calling one up. There was a blinding light and when it faded, there was a small, humanoid being before him, dressed in some atrocious colors face hidden behind some bandages. Looking at the hands there was a pale flesh tone to it.

"State your name," Sakyo said.

"Tell me yours first," was the answer. It was a muffled young man's voice or maybe just a deep woman's voice.

"You're my servant now, so you must do as I say."

"I sure as hell aren't anyone's servant anymore."

"I called you up, therefore you are."

"…You can call anyone up with this piece of crap chalk drawing you have here. I don't have any need to be here. I have things to do."

Sakyou stood and ripped the bandages from its face. A woman's. A scarred up woman with a eye without a lid so as to look like she only has a naked eyeball. She glared up at him, energy flaring and readying to attack.

"Your. Name."

"…Mukuro, goddamn you."

"And I am to be called Sakyo only. Now introductions aside, I want to release you from this place and have you run about your business and take as many humans as you want."

"Excuse me? I could do that any time I want and I don't feel I should listen to a man that just wants to shout senseless orders. I have no desire to do your bidding. Find someone else. If anyone should be barking orders, it's me. I've got too much to do than to waste my time with a fool like you." She snatched the bandages from his hands. She turned around and started to walk out the door, but just as she was about to turn the knob, she found an compulsion to turn around and go back to the circle. "…What the hell did you do to me?"

"I told you. I summoned you. I have to dismiss you in order for you to leave. Which I won't. Or if I tell you to do something outside of the confines of this room, but after that deed is done, you will inevitably come back to me."

"Goddamn you."

"What's so important that you have to leave?"

"…I'm the damn king of demon world."

"Ha. Woman king. Well, your highness, you're stuck with me for a while so why don't you… take a seat and enjoy this?"

"I'll do no such thing. And I refuse to just parade around and kill random people because YOU think it's fun. If you gave me a more reasonable request, then I'll do it. Got anyone in particular?"

"Give me a week."

"A WEEK?"

"…I am a very busy man, you see. Many business meetings. If you happen to decide to go on a rampage we can end this here and now."

"There's this thing I have. It's called 'pride.' Maybe you've heard of it."

"Have it your way. Now. Wait here, I have a business meeting. Unless you find it in yourself to change out of that, which I highly doubt you do and I'd rather not have my colleagues tell me how gaudy of a dresser you are." Mukuro groaned and sat down.

At the business meeting, he found at least ten faces he wanted dead. Ten out of the eleven attendees, a number which included himself. He came back with her sitting in the chair. He said a week. He wanted to be sure. The week passed more of the same. She refused to move from her place. She watched him with eagle eyes as he passed by, refused his food on the grounds that she didn't want to eat anything that wasn't human because of stomach problems.

At the end of the week, he held out the paper with names and addresses, now twenty-three people in it. She nodded and left the room. By midnight, three days passed, he awoke and found the woman standing by his bed, covered in blood, the head of the last business rival in her hands.

"Really, Mukuro, I just had that carpet cleaned."

"Is our business finished?"

"Now? Yeah, sure."

She nodded. "Well, good doing business with you."

…

One year later, he did the same thing, and once again was yielded Mukuro, who immediately showed her face to indicate it was she.

"Who do I have to kill now?"

He had a list fifty men strong. He watched as her rounded catlike eyes scanned through the names, a slight look of delight on her lips. Ha. Try as she might, she liked the thought of bloodshed. And maybe with a little justice laced in.

"And come back when you're done. I have something to ask of you."

She looked up from the paper and shrugged. As long as she can deal with blood she was okay. Mukuro came back in three days once again covered in blood. She had a foot in her hand that she tossed on the table.

"Must you always ruin my things with your prizes? Don't you know how much explanation I had to give to my maids?"

"A hundred thousand yen at least," was her answer.

"True, true. Now, I think instead of me tearing you from your business, I think we should set up a communication so that whenever I need you, I just ask for your time."

"Who said I would come back?"

"You like the job, don't you? I could pay you…"

"You have nothing I can't get. I'm a king, remember? But… I suppose I wouldn't mind having an outlet for stress…"

…

And so began their business relationship, which with time gave into a more willingness to just linger without the necessity of blood. And so a week before the tournament:

"Mukuro. I have another proposal for you."

"How many this time?"

"No… I'm going to open a tunnel to demon world. No, hear me out. It would make our connections easier. I can come to you when I want. And we can even make a pact that we would have good relations between the worlds."

"I don't want the world. I wouldn't mind just having you. I like my own little bit of Demon World. Really, I know a guy for that. His name's Yomi."

"You like my jobs that much?"

"I like you. And the killing."

"I will come back then. After the tournament."

He never did.


	15. Only you can help yourself

I had a dream once, that I was in chains. I couldn't untangle myself from them. People would walk by and try to help or maybe just hurt me. But they cut off my limbs and when I think I'm about to be freed, my limbs have grown back and the chopped off ones have become more chains.

I saw a figure in the distance I wanted to call out to them, but I just left them there. By the end of the dream, I was covered save for my eyes before I called them out. When they came to me, I saw it was myself.

I woke up confused. That was years and years ago. Maybe I was several decades away from adolescence when it happened. I had buried it long before the moment when Hiei brought back my father in a plant. I wish I could say that just his doing that was enough to make me better. But I'm not.

It's not that easy to fix over five hundred years' worth of repression. You can take a slice of at the wrist but it recovers well enough. But there's still a scar.

But scars fade. If you take care of them.

I never did. I hid behind my rage. I used the Hirui stone to calm that rage. But I have given it back to its rightful owner. I don't need it. I don't need more of my enemies in plants. I need myself to be healed.

It's time I stop running. I need to turn around and face it. One

step

by

step

at

a

time.


	16. To Each His Own

A mirror never lies. People like to try and say that it does, in how it tells them whether or not they're wide of waist when they want the answer to be no, even if it is unmistakably Yes. But there is a difference between putting forth one's projections of the self upon the image the mirror shows you.

It is an innocent force, really. It knows no better. In fact, it is all the more innocent because it can only tell the truth.

I look in the mirror for the first time since my youth, not entirely sure as to what I look like anymore. The only thing I am aware of is there's something about my scarring that keeps people away from me. I always told myself it was just the shock from revealing who I was. But I know what it really is.

I look in the mirror. And here is what I see- An eye without a lid, obviously an artificial one; the etchings in my skin, which leaves tags in some places; a hairline receding until the damage has met its boundary; a box replacing an ear.

I'm staring at it for what seems like half an hour and I still don't understand why people think it's horrifying. Personally I never saw what was so wrong with having two faces. It makes your expressions mean more when you compare the two.

I never did see the perks in having a matching face anyway.


	17. Random: Mukurolemon rind

((Note: I'm not being serious here, guys. Just so you know.))

So, having put down the glass of tea, Mukuro started feeling slightly alone. More alone just with herself and that lemon rind. The one she felt a kinship with. She looked at the time. Five. People were still busy right now, so maybe she could chance an encounter with the little thing. It's been a while since she tried. When was the last time she did it? She was seventeen, right?

Occasionally she found a random need to get it out of the way. But instead of giving in most of the time, she just sat back and thought of other things. Like dead kittens for instance. But if she could understand the way the lemon feels, then dammit, why not consummate that relationship.

And she did what normal people did and stripped down to nothing. At which point she rolled the lemon rind into a sensible shape and jammed it in. It stung… quite a lot. But that was okay. Eventually she was used to it, her inner acids mixing with its acids. And eventually she found a good rhythm.

Suddenly she was aware that she forgot to lock the door. And in walked Kirin.

He said, "Um, Lord Mukuro… what…?"

"Goddamn it, this lemon's great at this!" she yelled.

"…Why…?"

"Because it does, now go away, I'm about to cum."

"Okay." And he walked out.

And so she came.

The end.


	18. The Faceless Lover

"Why didn't you tell me this up front?" she asked.

Mukuro's face was stinging from the blow she allowed herself to receive. True, she had deceived her.

"Well?"

"Which part?"

"Both."

"Which more than the other?"

"What, you couldn't tell me both?"

"If I was a man. Really and physically a man, but I looked as I do now… Would you still feel this way?"

"Would you have told me that first?"

"Would you have felt the same way or approached me if my face was exposed for what it was? It is not something I can detach myself from. Neither one. They are there because I was born this way. Born a woman. I wish I could still trust you enough to tell all. But I haven't trusted you in a long time."

"Well, I shouldn't have trusted some lesbian that hides behind a mask to get innocent girls like me."

"…How easy it is to say so… after the fact. How easily people assume they're innocent." And the innocent ones never insist they are. "If you hang to much upon that small detail, then you should leave. And you should be honest with yourself and know that you never did love the whole of me." Just the idea. Just the idea of being close to someone that could give you a slice of fame.

Step back- pick up, pick up. Right from the top.

~~~*…

Some time after Mukuro started gathering some followers, though she wasn't actively attempting to gain enough power to stand against Raizen. She had her group that happened to travel with her since that was all they allowed them to do, a gesture they took for an opportunity to gather an army rather than a gesture of apathy and suspicion that she would never be left alone otherwise. They had left a village and there was a woman waiting on the outside, looking like a hitchhiker at beast, or a runaway at the worst. She was torn up, ragged. Looked like someone had taken her and wrung her as someone would a rag before tossing it.

"Excuse me? Can you tell me where you're going?" she asked.

Kirin and Mukuro exchanged a look. Mukuro shrugged in response. Kirin said, "Where you want to go?"

"Anywhere that ain't here. Anywhere's better. If you don't mind, I can travel until I find a good place to stay." She received no response. "I'll do anything you want me to. I can cook or clean or anything. I was a nobleman's servant so I know all kinds of things. Just get me out of here."

"Shouldn't you stay with your employer?"

Mukuro inspected her clothes. Yes, they looked more like she was running away. She stood in a way that denoted something more despicable than being under the employ of a strict nobleman. They also implied that she was more than just a servant.

"…I can't stay with him anymore. He hit me and stuff. I've been doing it since I was a little girl and I've had enough, okay?" No. No it wasn't that. Not at all. "I've been running away but I think he's had some people after me. If I can come with you and get somewhere safely far away, then I won't have to worry about it."

Kirin turned to Mukuro, knowing in the end it was more her decision. The look and way he was holding himself now, she saw that he was more than slightly skeptical and he didn't want to have the responsibility for hiding away someone's fugitive servant/daughter. But hell, why be the one to turn away a woman who desperately needed to be helped. Didn't she know what that was like? "You can come with us. But if you cause too many problems with us, then we will have no other choice than to turn you away."

The woman nodded. The faceless woman. The nameless woman. She took it as a blessing, rather than suspecting there was a moment of connection between the two individuals. Kirin gave her a questioning look but Mukuro shrugged. He would later claim Mukuro just had a real bleeding heart. Or so the propaganda in Alaric went.

…

The woman came to Mukuro close to the coming night. She asked, "There are no women in your group."

"That is true," Mukuro answered. It wasn't.

"Why?"

"No woman has ever felt the desire to come traveling with me."

"I am afraid."

"If any of them try to hurt you in any way, I will punish them."

"…Why?"

"I just don't take people disrespecting women lightly. But there should never have to be a reason why one should protect those who cannot protect themselves in any circumstance."

"Are you saying I'm weak?"

"I'm saying I'm protecting you from harm. And nothing more." There was a long silence. "Is there anything else you have to tell me?"

"Can I… Um… Sleep with you then?"

"You can be in my general vicinity so if anyone tries anything in the middle of the night, I will hear you. But I trust my men. Not enough so that if someone is that reckless, I will choose their story over yours. But I believe that they are not those kinds of people."

"Why?"

"Haven't I explained it well enough already? …Rest well."

…

The next few months passed in the same manner. The girl followed Mukuro the closest. Eventually, the space came closed. In secrecy they managed to settle upon a trust that most would call love. Or enough trust that Mukuro never saw how the woman looked upon her as though she was an expensive piece of treasure she so dearly desired but couldn't afford. The months turned to years, and it was enough that the woman managed to convince Mukuro to stop her aimless wanderings and try to become a king.

It happened. And the nameless woman became the hidden lover of the king.

Mukuro came to find that the nameless woman, the lover started wanting more in the relationship, wondering why of all the years they've been joined, they had not been public about it, why she hadn't been kissed anywhere other than the hand or the cheek. Mukuro gave in and went for the conventional method, but still the lover wanted more. She wanted to sleep together.

Mukuro locked herself away for a while, lying that it was the current political problems keeping them apart. Really, she found herself frustrated with the lover. But mostly with herself for honestly believing a relationship would be any different if it was with a woman that if it was with a man. Because in the end, they both want the same things from relationships. And most of all, they wanted the ultimate moment of intimacy.

But not this one.

She could give in, but give an excuse as to why they couldn't be face to face. But it still required that she show her face to make it efficient enough.

Whatever. She would be open about it anyway.

…*~~~

"I can't believe I almost…" the woman was saying to herself.

"But does it make it less real?" Mukuro asked.

"Oh god, you were in love with me?"

"You answered my question."

The woman was silent.

"Well, that being done, will you tell me this? Would you hide my identity?"

"Why would I?"

"Because I'd have to kill you if you don't."

"I don't believe you. You said you'd protect me."

"But we say what we don't mean. You said you loved me, but you clearly don't."

"You expect me to accept that I was with another girl this whole time? Just like that? Bitch, you're damn crazy."

"Then do you vow to hide my identity?"

"I'd rather die that live knowing I almost did a girl."

"You mean that?"

"Yeah."

She didn't. But she met the apocalypse anyway.

-X-

((Yeah, I rushed at the end. I didn't know how to end it. I know what I wanted to do but…))


	19. Oubilette

I take my time when I pass a window these days. No one seems to think it's a particularly normal thing. In fact, people seem to attribute it as a characteristic that they like to refer to as "eccentricity." I cannot argue whether that is the case or not, seeing how it is only a bowdlerized way of saying than an individual is insane. (As only those of the higher class in society can be called eccentrics while the lower class are just considered mentally ill. I happen to be one of both backgrounds simultaneously, but I digress.)

I have acquired this particular habit of taking in windows, because somewhere within myself, I worry that just as it happened in my childhood, I would never see the outside against, save for the smallest patch that fails to tell you anything you truly wish to know. You see, as a child, as it is not commonly known, I lived in a large house by the largest underground slave trader in Demon World. The man's name was Chikou- my father, to be exact, though I never refer to him as such in any conversation unless required of me- and while in most aspects he was not one in the world of the genius, he managed to understand how to assert complete submission into his slave women. In short- he kept all doors locked except to allow costumers to come in, and he also made sure that there were no windows in any of the places the slaves were allowed to step foot in. I suspect that in his private chambers, the only place in which he slept alone, he had windows all over the bloody place. In fact, I have even wondered if the bastard owned a glass house in some secluded area just as a change of pace in a world where the sun was only the artificial lights in the room.

Of course, the slaves were also kept in cells. One person per cell, with the ones left for purchase on one wing of Chikou's estate, and us, his own kept women on the other side. We rarely saw each other, even in passing since we all stared at the one empty space in the ceiling above each cell. It was much too high for anyone to try to climb to, and even if someone had the physical build to attempt it, their body strength, left thin by malnutrition and stress, wouldn't allow one to even risk both climbing out of it and running away from both Chikou's guards and his damn hellhounds.

And even still- we assumed that the one window in our cells were sacred, too pure for anyone to touch. I recall some of the women even praying to it, assuming that that was the hole to heaven, and that if they continued to serve, they would be rewarded in the afterlife with a life of leisure.

The fools.

Some would say that it was the most humane thing that was done for us. I personally think it was just the opposite. We are shown the slightest slice of freedom, yet we know we cannot have it. Except, if we assert it.

So fascinated was I with that one space in the window, I wondered if I could have something much better than looking up to see the face of a monster and I am weighed under him. I was aware of the experimental chemicals left in the pantry, and followed the kitchen slave there, stating I was to be trained for other purposes as well. And the fool, she showed me.

The rest… is history.

I still don't like to be in confined spaces. I absolutely must have a window to be comfortable in one. The one room that has the large window is my favorite place to be. I feel a little disappointed I cannot set up there at all times. But then again, you can never fully appreciate what you have if you have it with you at all times, allowing you to forget that it is merely a privilege.


	20. Cute and Fluffy for Trolls

((Um… Not a lot to work with here, but okay.))

So one day Mukuro was super hungry. Instead of making a fig tree unable to bear any more fruit, what she did was walk in the kitchen and start to make a cake. She didn't quite have all the ingredients. So instead of eggs she used the bodies of spiders because they're full of air and protein and all that good stuff.

And she did whatever it was the cookbook told her to do. And she put the concoction in the oven and walked away. Everyone in the place was sad so as a song like this piko's make my day played. she walked back in the kitchen where the oven was on fire and pulled the cake out without gloves and the cake was black which meant it was a rainbow, too, cause black's a combo of all the colors. That's what Hiei said but he was all grumpy like a baby that pooped in its pants so she kind of took his word for it anyway.

So Mukuro cut up the cake and gave it to eevryione and then everyone wasn happy especially dhiei and thens hek turned to yUkina and it was weird and then there was wazs rainvow and unicorna dnd hiei-yukina thing and mukuro and all the poeople in the cnetinepede jumped on its back and felew awwya in the sunsuet like iun nevergending stort evcept it never happedned which was ad because thay maove was suoier lobf and stuff.

RRTHE EHNDS!

((Sorry, I didn't know what you had in mind. _;;))


	21. Butts

Inside the Mukade Fortress (ya know, that centipede thing Mukuro rides in?) there were a lot of guys. A LOT. Like on a male to female ratio it was more like five to one quarter. For the ladies in the building that made men open season, though PDAs were often looked down upon. (unlessofcourseothermencanjoi nincauseheyitaintgayifitsina threeway)

On one memorable day, Mukuro happened to be bored and sat with a bunch of women on break, not wanting to be left out of the famous "Girl talk." Not that she wanted to be part of the girls. Nope. No way, no how. She doesn't want to be with the girls, but it was nice to study them in the case that….

_…Shut up._ Mukuro thought.

Anyway, so on this particular bloody day, Mukuro met with some particular bloody group of bloody women that happened to set up some chairs that made them much below eye level of men. She couldn't understand it. Then a bunch of guys walked by. And all of them stared at them.

Then the conversation turned interesting.

"OMG" _wait, people say that?! _"Kirin has the hottest ass ever."

"Nah, I think Shigure has a sweeter one. Even if it is big."

"I dunno, Hiei has a nice one."

They turned to Mukuro. "You wanna weigh in?"

"…Since when does Hiei even have an ass?"

((you know it's true.))


	22. ChikouMukuro: Dear Old Dad

**DEAR OLD DAD**

There were no windows in the castle that she remembered. Not many doors that could be accessed, only the guards that pass the women along as their property. But none that she could get through. She often dreamed of hiding and being sold. But no.

The average day of people coming in to buy:

Mukuro is placed on a pedestal right next to her father, the head of the mail order bride market (a fancy way of saying he sells prostitutes), Chikou in her best white lace dress that covered just enough of her body while still maintaining the image of a doll. The buyer will be seated across what could only be described as Chikou's throne. Chikou would strike a quick conversation with the buyer, and then afterwards, he would line up ten women that he thinks would suit the buyer's needs based on what was said.

BUYER: (pointing to Mukuro) What about her?

CHIKOU: (laughing) Oh, she's not for sale. She's just a way to demonstrate how I can change these women if you think they need any work. I got a guarantee on it. I turned this one into what she is now and I won't part with her for anything at all. She's my work of art.

"She's my work of art." Right. That was exactly it. She was just his little doll. And when the buyer takes one, sometimes two with the record being all ten, plus a request for more, Chikou would kiss her and say, "You did it, babe. We're gonna run this empire together."

And it wasn't the kiss a father gives his daughter. It was one right on the lips, tongue slipping in, forcing itself in her unwilling mouth. His eyes were closed but she left hers open, since that seemed like the conventional way of saying you're not interested. So the other women said, anyway. He still took her lack of movement as a statement of compliance, no matter what she did.

He would celebrate by taking her to bed. He'd practically rip her precious dress off, though he had several of the same one in the case that it did get torn or stained. And at which point it would be as the kiss was. Except she was forced to look at his face or she would be forced to more brutalities that he passed off as variations of showing his love. As in taking foreign objects and such just to make his point. He said it was out of love, but it was punishment and she knew it.

She dreamed of a window somewhere. A window so she could jump out of it. But until then she relied only on hoping for the work of miracles. The escape.

She was caged under him. With his tongue and sex forcing itself in her.

Never again, she thought with every thrust. Never again. Goddammit, NEVER AGAIN…


	23. Five Ounce Bird Can't Carry a Coconut

((There are two ways to go about this. I could do a comedy or I can do a straight one. Let's see how depressing the straight one is, and if it's that bad, I'll write the comedy.))

**THE WEIGHTS RESIST YOU**

They say one day in eternity is when a sparrow moves an ocean away using only the cap of an acorn. There is never any time frame of when the sparrow can stop carrying the ocean or when it has begun or why. No, its mere existence is to carry the ocean back and forth and the sands in the desert are carried back and forth with the ever changing winds. It is only the sands in a hourglass with no top or bottom. Just the constant movement.

What if the end of eternity was weighed by the time it takes for a five ounce bird to carry a coconut? Just as the end of time can be said to be only the point when the snake eats its own tail.

Suppose it isn't a statement of time. Suppose it is only a statement of weight. Suppose it is the weight upon a man's heart. Or a woman's as the present moments calls for the noun to be one of a certain gender.

Mukuro. Right. Born with certain things, having had to see things no child should understand until adolescence. She supposes she could be this bird, carrying the weight of the sins that she lived with. Maybe they weren't all her fault, and maybe they were. She lives in her own purgatory just figuring that out. So long had she tried to ignore it, but instead it found its way back into the front of her consciousness- jabbing through Athena-like. She locked herself away once a year, knowing that even in that day she was needed as the king.

And Hiei brought a potted plant. She was freed. To an extent. The most that she could be.

So how do you get a five ounce bird to lift a one pound object? You get some more birds to lift it.


	24. Black Knight

BLACK KNIGHT

He had really pale skin, not as deathly pale as her own, of course, but it was still enough that the red of his blood, the same bright color as his eyes, pooling around his body from his arm and his precisely sliced gut looked so bright in color it was almost as though it was fake. It was enough that his black clothing made him look more ghostly, though it made him slightly more noticeable simply because of the contrast. It was not without fascination that she watched as the red liquid, which served as a reminder of life, fell from his flesh, only for the sake of watching it as more of a contrast.

It was not by word of mouth that he mentioned his status of being a halfbreed, but his mind said it was so. That his skin was such a tone because his mother was made that way. His love of being in the shadows was only a secondary characteristic that made it into a self fulfilling prophecy.

His time was almost up when she rolled him to his back with her feet to make it easier for him to be moved. At that point his eyes opened up, as was common in the dead. Before she ordered his body moved into another room, the one where it truly began, she slipped a hand out from her sleeve and closed them, leaned in closer to hear any final gasps of breath. Just as soldiers do in the battlefield.

She looked after Shigure. It wasn't such a difficult process to revive someone at this point before death, though the risk of his mind being gone was increasing with time due to his obvious brain damage.

Returning to Hiei, knowing she had seen all of his life that she would want. Something pulled her to open his mind. Let him share the dream, too.

When it was time to release him, it took a couple of hours for him to regain consciousness. He awoke and looked at her with confused eyes, almost fearful. Her face was still left unmasked to make sure he knew what he saw in his dreams.

Her hand was holding his, without a tool. Neither spoke a word. She put a hand on his shaking shoulders- those who reawaken often find themselves afraid- and held him to her chest.

No. It is not love.

He was her comrade. Her brother. Her child.

_"Kiss while your lips are still red_  
_While he's still silent_  
_Rest while bosom is still untouched, unveiled_  
_Hold another hand while the hand's still without a tool_  
_Drown into eyes while they're still blind_  
_Love while the night still hides the withering dawn"_


	25. RishoMukuro: Pinocchio

Pinocchio, a Romance.

Or the more interesting title "I Salute You, Takahashi Couple!"

Also here's a quote from a random band for no reason, "The only suicidal thing here is the doors/ We had a good run; even I have to admit/ Life's just a pace-call on death, only less diligent"

It just so happened that one day, Mukuro had joined Yukina at Genkai's temple just as a visit. (And possibly to find some way to try and troll Hiei into confessing his relation to the poor girl for once.) In one particular moment, Yukina happened to shift a little as she brought the tea down.

"What's troubling you?" Mukuro asked.

"Oh, it's nothing really!" Yukina replied a bit too quickly.

"Yukina. Really."

"Oh… Well… Um…"

Mukuro stared at her until she finally gave the answer.

"Um… I don't know if you're the person to ask, but… How do you make a man leave you alone?"

"What do you mean? Is he breaking in? do you want me to kill him because I will and I can make it look like an acci-" She stopped herself because she knew Yukina was giving her a deer in the headlights look. Or what people said was. She wouldn't know personally, not having a driver's license or anything.

"Well, he just…"

At that moment, the door opened and in stepped a man with shoulder length hair and a puppet nose holding an old assortment of flowers wrapped in some Christmas wrapping paper. He said, "Hello, my dear, I come for your heart!"

Mukuro stared at the man. And the man stared at him.

"…Is this the one?" Mukuro asked Yukina, who nodded sheepishly. "Okay, I'll take care of him for you."

"Just don't kill him!"

"…Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiiiine." So she took the man outside. "Okay, you see here, nose man."

"Excuse me?" asked nose man.

"You have an interesting nose. Anyway-"

"My name is Risho! I don't refer to you Scarface Nobreasts, do I?"

"ANYWAY, I think you should leave Yukina alone. She doesn't like you and you should leave her alone."

"But, I brought her flowers. If there's anything that brings love from a woman, it's flowers."

"Let me see those." She took them from him and threw them over her shoulder. Just to be sure, she also spat in their general direction.

"You monster! Well, I hope you're happy. That's the one and last time you'll ever get flowers from a man."

"Get out of here, Puppet Nose!" And so Puppet Nose, I mean, Risho, ran away. That takes care of that.

….Except not, because the next time she visited Yukina, he burst in the room again with another bouquet of flowers. Once again Mukuro took him outside, with one leg ready to give him a swift kick in the ass straight to the moon, as she happened to have wanted to do to Hiei after he sassed about… whatever the fuck he's bitching about again. (The point is she has a high threshold for his crap but it condenses until she has to kick someone's ass.)

"What the hell is your problem?" Mukuro asked.

"Can't you understand what it means to be in love with someone?" Risho asked.

"….Negative."

"This is why you're so… I will show you!"

"Whoa, whoa, wait…"

Risho grabbed her. He positioned himself over her, holding her arms. "I'll show you what it means to feel…"

"Hold on, right now! I can't kiss you! You're a dog! A human dog!"

"I'M A FUCKING DEMON OKAY?!"

"Oh. Well, you're a human. A human demon."

"…Shut up." And so he kissed her.

Then Yukina walked over. She felt awkward. But she supposed this was what Mukuro meant when she said she wanted to take care of this.


	26. MukuroSasuga: Cherryblossom Storm

((You know, the one where they use that tail for something interesting lawl, and then this person called D shows up and they're all like what the lump?))

Cherry Blossom Storm

They say that youth is the best time of your life. Your best memories are always made when you are younger. Mukuro couldn't say she agreed in the slightest. In fact, she was willing to bet that your youth was the worst time of your life, supposing that the rest of your life didn't fair as horribly.

Sasuga changed that, of course. Sasuga with her innocent ways and enthusiastic attitudes. They came upon each other in a roundabout way. Sasuga just so happened to come across the patrol, and she got a chance to speak to Mukuro. Eventually it actually drew enough to become a friendship.

Oddly enough, Mukuro found herself savoring and looking forward to the small amount of chances she got to see the younger woman. She was a breath of fresh air in the long chains of people droning about how much they hate the patrol (a disease Mukuro credits herself with not yet catching). She seemed to be the kind of person that was always moving forward, not dwelling on the darkness of the past but the brightness of the future and the here and now. It was the kind of thing that she supposed made people idolize others.

And moreover, she was still relatively innocent, all the more reason she was more of a breath of fresh air. A young innocent woman along with this older one with a ravaged face.

They were out in the field one day. Mukuro looked over, noticed uncomfortably the rich golden tints in the way the sun hit Sasuga's hair. Damn it all._ Could this be…?_

"Hey, I know this is sudden but you think you can give me some advice on somethin'?" Her face was slightly red.

"What is it?"

"If you don't know the answer or can't that's okay, it's just… Um… There's this guy I really like and I really want him to notice me but I dunno how."

Mukuro cocked a brow. "Why are you asking me?"

"I… I dunno, actually. Just kinda the sorta thing that you talk to other girls about. But I bet you've had guys you liked, right?"

_…a schoolgirl crush? _Mukuro looked into the sunset. "I guess you could say that. But, unfortunately I can't tell you anything. Sorry."

"Eh, it's okay. It was a weird question to ask ya, I guess…" Her face was more red, just out of embarrassment.

Mukuro sighed. _Is it her that I want or is it just the idea of her innocence so appealing to me? I don't know. I don't know either…_


	27. MiyukiMukuro: fLiPpEd

-fLiPpEd

"So what's it like for you now?"

Mukuro looked away from the window for a moment. There was Miyuki leaning at the opposite sill, also looking at the landscape. The Mukade had stopped for the day so they managed to look out in the distance, as lights from the cities twinkled on the horizon.

"What do you mean?" Mukuro asked.

"What's it like for you now, Mukuro? Now that everyone knows that you're a woman, after living like a man so long," Miyuki asked. She was picking at a cuticle with her french manicured nails, her eyes focused on the city lights. It was obvious she was thinking of its residents, imagining their faces when they see Mukuro walk by.

"People are… softer on me, I guess you can say. Just the random courtesies society says you must extent to women bothers me more than I thought it would. Or maybe I was just assuming that people wouldn't change in how they treat me. But for god's sake, they call me LADY Mukuro now. If they want to hang on titles, why don't they just call me LORD Mukuro instead? Lady? What is wrong with people?"

"I think it suits you."

"I don't think it does. What part of me screams, 'Lady'?"

"You just have that sort of allure to you. This sort of mysterious, aristocratic sort of look to you. If someone mentioned the ladies of the one days, I would think of someone that looks like you."

"Oh stop. You're just saying that."

"It's true for me."

"I spit like men do. I actually can gargle everything up like they do, too. I could demonstrate for you."

"Oh please don't… That's so gross."

"Just proving a point." Mukuro shrugged. She knew why Miyuki was asking, of course. She knew what it was like. To go from one gender to the next. She knew that Miyuki was still biologically a man, still needing another surgery to go all the way. But she still accepted her as a woman. Though, Mukuro herself couldn't say she entirely knew that.

She didn't consider herself man or woman. Just some sort of other. A middle sex. But still, she was in a world where you must be one or the other in order to fit certain social protocol. She still liked the idea of breaking those rules even still.

That was what made Miyuki so appealing. Though she knew it was still wrong to think so, as Miyuki wanted to be known as a woman, she also thought Miyuki was that other, that third sex.

But… she didn't like women that way. She didn't seem to find that third sex appealing either. But leave it to fantasy.

It is just the love of two minds.


End file.
